Regeneration: First Sarah
Place: Camp, Earth, twenty-first century.
"Excuse me?"
She looked up. It was a human, male, one of the caretakers. Sarah guessed he was about thirty.
"Yes?"
"Are you one of the sponsors? I haven't seen you before."
"That's because I don't stay in one place very long." She looked at the sky, hoping he would leave is she ignored him. The wind had the toasted smell of summer. Tree branches with ultra green leaves swayed. Teenagers ran about, giggling or making fun of each other. He was still there.
"Look," Sarah said. "I'm an alien. I was thrown back in time by a freak fracture in the fabric of reality. My friends in their spaceship can't help. I need to concentrate to think of a way to reopen the portal so I can leave this primitive, hormone fueled environment, and it would help, it really would, if I didn't have to deal with a slightly balding human burbling about sponsors!"
He smiled, and laughed. After working around teenagers, who made jokes out of anything, he supposed this was a joke too.
"I so know someone you should meet." he said. "She's into science fiction too."
Sarah sighed. "Spare me the annoyance." She walked off, in a very bad mood. Teens were playing baseball nearby. They had to wait in line for their turn. One girl was writing in a small notepad, and kept moving to the end of the line so she'd never have to play. Sarah could see why. The writer was chubby, had no muscle, and would probably embarrass herself in any physical activity. Getting bored, Sarah decided to talk to her."Like writing, do you?"
"Yeah."
"Not one for sports?"
"Yeah."
"Good at anything?"
She saw the writer's shoulders sag a little. Obviously of the aggravating type that had no self esteem. "Not much."
"Shame."
"Yeah."
"Maybe you could be an author."
"Maybe."
"Great conversationalist, you are." Sarah said sarcastically.
"Sorry." The writer looked up from her notebook. It can't be said why, but it was a very lucky chance. "What's that?"
Sarah looked too. It was a hazy patch. If you looked straight at it, all else would be distorted. She grinned, her mood brightening.
"That's my way home. Look, I'm sorry if I was rude before." Before the writer could answer, she ran off. The human watched. When the haze and Sarah collided, both vanished. The writer's mouth dropped open. Along walked a human male, from before.
"What's so interesting?" he asked.
The writer's mouth closed. "Nothing, nothing. Just thinking."
"Then choo-choo. We have a game to play."
Trying not to groan, she took her place at the base.